Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Emotionless, artist - Jim Jones. Date of issue: 06.11.2006
Song language: English
Emotionless |
| Lemme two-twelve wit' you for second |
| True story |
| Cold sweats (sweaty sheets) |
| From bad dreams (nightmares) |
| I hope the Feds don’t grab the team |
| Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers (DipSet) |
| We sell whole pies so you ain’t got to cut the cake up |
| Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us (solemnly swear) |
| Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us (pray for me) |
| And outlaws is what it made us |
| We live the fast life, and so we ball out major (ballin') |
| Until I see a ribbon in the sky |
| Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride (full speed ahead) |
| Due to my political ties |
| I can’t roll around without the drip in the ride (East Side) |
| And if my gun boys ain’t hear of ya |
| You’re lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya |
| You’re looking at a cracker’s worst nightmare |
| Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nikes |
| Boy you talk about my life here |
| Fuck wit OGs that put dice in the mirror |
| And they tell me that life’s but a gamble |
| The media will turn your whole life into a scandal |
| Put my emotions aside (why?) |
| Cause they can never take my alive (no) |
| I’m a ride (I'm a ride) |
| And don’t cry (don't cry) |
| Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug) |
| And if I’m standing in front of the judge |
| Guess what? |
| He can never take me alive (no) |
| I’m a ride (I'm a ride) |
| And don’t cry (don't cry) |
| Poured off Bentley |
| Looking like steroids |
| Jetson car, I’m looking like Elroy |
| Maserati lookin' like a shark on land |
| Neiman Marcus edition, contraband |
| Neiman Marcus I’m in it, shopping and |
| Five thousand spent on pants, man (man) |
| Bitches love it, niggas want it |
| So bad they wanna take it, but I kill 'em for it (huh) |
| Believe me, I’m like a bear that ain’t get his porridge |
| You better stay out the forest, warning |
| It’s Santana he fucks |
| Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks |
| I see you clear, my antennas is up |
| And that hand-scale is still in my pocket |
| What you want? |
| (What you want?) |
| Dough boys in the trap, where ya at? |
| (where ya at?) |
| Coke dealer’s in the hood, what’s good? |
| (what's good?) |
| Boy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit |
| Well come meet the man that’s stamping them bricks (us) |
| Fly wit' the Byrds, or lie wit' the dirt |
| Your corpse, flies will emerge |
| They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer |
| Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster (speeding) |
| Now, do you wanna ride or die? |
| Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky (that purple) |
| I’m drunk staring B |
| I need therapy |
| The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy |
| Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo |
| I make it off the plane I’m a land to a payroll |
| My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar (that mixture) |
| And it all come back, like grams of the hard |
| You heard of us, the murders, the most shady (DipSet) |
| Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me (Jones) |
| They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants |
| When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing (speeding) |
| They try to catch me out of bounds |
| They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town (loaded) |
| A thug changes, and love changes |
| And since 9/11, the price of the drugs changes |